


you will never be what i need

by knoxoursavior



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: Sometimes, no more than twice a month, Eiji gets a text from an unsaved number. It always lists a date and a time. No place, of course; they always meet in the same room, the same hotel owned by the Lees.





	you will never be what i need

Sometimes, no more than twice a month, Eiji gets a text from an unsaved number. It always lists a date and a time. No place, of course; they always meet in the same room, the same hotel owned by the Lees.

Every time Eiji gets a text like that, he wars with himself. He wants to delete it, wants to pretend it means nothing, wants to erase the memory of every date on this thread of messages that just keeps getting longer and longer.

But every time Eiji gets a text with a date and a time, he just ends up in the same fucking place, fucking the same person who he should hate with every fiber of his being.

They’re never gentle, never take it slow. Eiji comes home with bruises on the small of his back, scratches on his arms, bite marks on his neck, on his chest. He isn’t the only one; Eiji gives as good as he gets. 

Even now, Yut-lung digs his nails into Eiji’s scalp. Even now, Yut-lung pulls Eiji into a kiss and leaves his lips bitten red, sore. Even now, Yut-lung’s thighs around Eiji’s waist press tight enough to bruise, but Eiji doesn’t complain. He never complains.

It hurts, but everything does these days.

Besides, it doesn’t matter if it hurts. For a few moments, for one night, he feels alive. He feels something else surge in his chest other than the familiar sadness and the never-ending grief.

“Harder,” Yut-lung grunts into his ear. “Come on,  _ harder _ .”

Yut-lung grabs at Eiji’s hair and _pulls_ _pulls pulls_ until Eiji finally relents, until the sound of Eiji’s skin slapping against Yut-lung’s fills the air, until Yut-lung is breathless with every thrust of Eiji’s hips. 

Yut-lung’s tattoo stands out even under the dim light, and Eiji takes advantage of that fact. He bites and sucks at the skin around it, on and on while Yut-lung is still leaning into every swipe of his tongue. He only stops to lick a stripe across Yut-lung’s chest, to blow on his quickly drying spit just so he can watch Yut-lung shiver.

He likes it when Yut-lung shivers, likes when Yut-lung looks up at him with dark, hooded eyes. He likes the feeling of Yut-lung’s body against his as Yut-lung arches his back, likes the way Yut-lung so obviously tightens around him that a moan spills from his lips.

Eiji’s hips snap into Yut-lung, hard enough that Yut-lung’s head bumps into the headboard. Yut-lung hisses, grabs at Eiji’s hair and pulls until Eiji’s vision blurs and all that’s left is the memory of Yut-lung’s flushed face twisted in pleasure, burned into his eyelids.

Immediately, there’s an apology on the top of his tongue, but he stops it before it can escape, pulls apart the words before they can ruin the night.

Yut-lung doesn’t like it when Eiji says sorry. He doesn’t like it when Eiji’s touches turn light, gentle. He doesn’t like it when Eiji tries to fuck into him slow, tries to do anything but pin him down and fuck him until he’s screaming.

Well. Yut-lung hasn’t screamed yet tonight, so Eiji should probably pick up his slack.

Eiji runs his palm across the head of Yut-lung’s leaking cock, lightly at first, but when Yut-lung starts thrusting into Eiji’s touch, he gives in. He wraps a hand around Yut-lung’s cock, slides it up and down again with every thrust of his hips.

Yut-lung groans and he moans and he gasps for breath, but he doesn’t scream, not yet. Eiji knows what he needs, knows what always drags a scream up his throat. Eiji discovered it on that first night they started this, discovered it when his vision was red and his mind was muddled by wine.

But ever since then, Eiji only saves it for last, saves it for the few seconds left that they’re connected skin-to-skin, when he knows that Yut-lung’s patience is running out and so is their time together.

Eiji reaches up with his free hand, wraps it around Yut-lung’s throat. He squeezes, tighter and tighter, feels Yut-lung tightening around him in turn. Yut-lung’s voice rises to a scream that goes on and on and on, punctuated with a cry every time Eiji thrusts into him. It’s like a feedback loop— _ tighter louder harder tighter louder harder— _ again and again and again until Yut-lung’s voice runs out and his mouth is only open in a silent scream, until Yut-lung’s come paints their torsos, until Yut-lung shuts his eyes tight and his cheeks are stained with tears.

Eiji loosens his hold on Yut-lung’s throat, cradles Yut-lung’s cheek in his hand instead. He ducks his head into Yut-lung’s space, presses kisses onto Yut-lung’s skin, mouths his apologies into Yut-lung’s neck. He stops fucking into Yut-lung, just stays inside him and savors Yut-lung’s warmth.

This is what Eiji looks forward to the most, what he thinks of when he gets that text with a date and a time, what makes him come running every time. Seeing Yut-lung like this, satisfied, breathing heavily under Eiji as he catches his breath, cheeks flushed and chest shining with come—

It’s easy to pretend. It’s so easy to pretend that Eiji and Yut-lung are lovers, making love in this room that is only theirs. It’s so,  _ so _ easy to pretend that Yut-lung is someone who could be that person, that Yut-lung won’t be just waiting for him to get dressed and leave after this.

It’s easy to pretend, so Eiji does. He pretends. There’s no Ash, no Sing, no blood on Yut-lung’s hands or ugly hatred clinging so firmly to Eiji’s heart. In this moment, there’s nothing but  _ this _ , nothing but Yut-lung’s spent, pliant body underneath him, just waiting for him to come. 

And sometimes—

Sometimes, Yut-lung surprises him. Sometimes, Yut-lung, in his satisfied haze, reaches up to run his hand up Eiji’s back, only to settle on the back of Eiji’s neck. Sometimes, Yut-lung pulls Eiji into a kiss that is gentle and soft and entirely unprompted.

Yut-lung does that tonight, and Eiji wants so bad to prolong it, to take and take and  _ take _ as much as he can of this one moment, but he knows it’s fleeting, knows it will turn into poison once Yut-lung realizes what he’s doing. So Eiji lets himself come, picks out every little detail about this moment and commits it to memory.

He’ll think about this the next time he receives a text from Yut-lung. Not the bruises on his body or the ache in his muscles. He’ll remember Yut-lung’s face, twisted in his pleasure, slackened in his release. He’ll remember Yut-lung’s lips brushing against his own, warm and yielding instead of burning, bruising.

Next time. He might have this again next time.

For now, though, he slides out of Yut-lung, doesn’t let himself linger on the way Yut-lung has tensed up under him. He climbs off of Yut-lung, doesn’t let his eyes linger on the stiff line of Yut-lung’s shoulders when he turns his back on Eiji.

Eiji wipes himself off, gets dressed quietly with Yut-lung’s still heavy breaths filling the air between them.

“Goodbye, Yut-lung,” he says. Yut-lung doesn’t reply. 

They both know he only means it as  _ until next time _ . They both know talking about this will only make things worse. They both know this doesn’t make sense.

Then again, not a lot of things make sense these days.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [twitter](http://twitter.com/singeiji) or [tumblr](http://singeiji.tumblr.com)


End file.
